


Tight Rein

by Pony Girl (Jackjunkie)



Category: Young Riders
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackjunkie/pseuds/Pony%20Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck must deal with long-buried feelings about his background when Emma is threatened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tight Rein

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine The Pony Express #5

_Thwack!_

The mallet smacked forcefully against the wooden ball and sent it bouncing and rolling across the yard and through the open barn door.

“This ain’t so hard,” Jimmy Hickok said with a satisfied air, twirling the mallet around in his hand.

“If the object of this game was just smashing at the ball, Hickok, which it ain’t,” Teaspoon instructed. “Ya got to aim for these here wickets.”

“Yer lucky that didn’t fly through one o’ Emma’s windows,” Lou remarked, pushing up the glasses that had slid down her nose.

“How’s it gonna go through Emma’s window when I hit it the other way?” retorted Jimmy.

“You sayin’ you actually had a direction in mind when you whacked that thing?” grinned the Kid.

Ike interjected a comment, his hands voicing his suggestion. “Why not just shoot that poor ball, Jimmy, and put it out of its misery?”

“Now, ever’body just hold it,” Teaspoon interrupted the horseplay. “I got this here croquet game so you boys could learn to play like gentlemen, not so’s you’d have something new to fight about.”

Buck looked up from where he was pounding in the final wooden stake. “All set, Teaspoon,” he called.

“Now ain’t that a purty sight,” Teaspoon commented as he cocked his head and scrutinized the layout. The new wire wickets sparkled in the morning sunshine and the brightly painted wooden balls, mallets, and stakes wove a colorful pattern over the drab dirt yard. Teaspoon nodded approvingly. “All right, boys, let’s try it the way I showed ya. And remember—yer gentlemen, so try an’ act civilized.” He tucked his thumbs under his suspenders, gave them a stretch, and folded his hands across his middle. “Play ball!”

The boys (and girl) scrambled for position. Cody tipped his hat and bowed. “After you, Ike,” he said grandly. “See, Teaspoon, I kin be a gentleman.”

Jimmy swatted the back of his head.

“Hey!” Cody protested, looking round and rubbing the sore spot.

“Whatcha get for puttin’ on airs, Cody,” Lou counseled.

Ike just grinned and hit his ball straight through the first wicket. The game was on.

The crack of wood on wood intermingled with the players’ voices as questions were asked and Teaspoon pronounced his judgments.

“No, backwards don’t count, Hickok, ya gotta go through it from the front.

“That’s right, Kid, that one there’s yer next target.

“No, Hickok, ya can’t hit Cody’s ball just ‘cause it’s in yer way.

“Nice swing, Lou.

“Hickok, movin’ the wickets ain’t allowed.

“Watch it there, Ike, Buck’s head don’t make a very good ball.”

The young Kiowa ducked as his friend, who’d been idly swinging his mallet as he stood and awaited his turn, narrowly missed knocking his hat off.

“No fair scalping, Ike,” he said. “We’re s’posed ta be civilized, remember?”

Ike’s guilty look and response were cut off by a shout from Jimmy.

“He hit me! Hey, Teaspoon, Cody hit my ball! He can’t do that, can he?”

“Well now, let’s see what we got here.” Teaspoon walked over to get a closer look. “Nice play, Cody,” he observed. “Remember what I told you. This is where ya get to knock his ball outta bounds.”

“What?! That ain’t fair, Teaspoon. You wouldn’t let me knock his ball away. How come he gets ta hit mine?”

“On account a his ball hittin’ yours. I told ya, them’s the rules.”

“Aw, what kinda stupid rule is that, Teaspoon?”

Ignoring Jimmy’s objections, Cody placed his foot carefully on his ball where it was nestled next to Hickok’s. He lifted his mallet high over his shoulder and brought it down in a swooping arc to hit neatly in the center of his ball. The force sent Hickok’s ball flying off the course, out of the yard, and past the bunkhouse.

Jimmy didn’t even watch to see where it came to rest. With a roar, he grabbed the nearest ball from the Kid, plunked it down next to Cody’s, and swung his own mallet. Unfortunately, he emulated Cody’s strength but not his technique. Instead of connecting with the ball, the heavy wooden mallet landed squarely upon his foot. With a yelp of pain, Jimmy dropped the mallet, grabbed his injured left foot in his hands, and began hopping about on his right.

At the spectacle of Hickok dancing one-legged around the yard, howling and nursing his other foot, Cody could not restrain himself. He began to laugh. It was very hard to ignore Billy Cody’s laugh. It was not a mild chuckle, a quiet snicker. It was an all-out, rip-roaring, whooping guffaw. He pointed at Hickok, he stamped his feet, he doubled over in glee.

Hickok never did take kindly to being laughed at. He particularly didn’t take kindly to being laughed at by Billy Cody, whom he saw as the cause of his present predicament.

“This is all your fault, Cody!” he yelled and jumped on his laughing friend. They began to roll and wrestle in the dirt.

The others gathered round to watch. Ike nudged Buck and gestured.

“You’re right, Ike,” Buck agreed. “This game’s just too uncivilized for me.”

“I thought Billy said he could be a gentleman,” Lou murmured to the Kid.

“I guess he reckoned without Wild Bill Hickok,” the Kid replied.

“Some things is just too sophisticated for some people,” Teaspoon sadly shook his head.

“Rider comin’!” Shading his eyes, the Kid pointed down the road toward town.

“It’s Sam,” Teaspoon identified the marshal. Hickok and Cody halted their tussling and sat up as Cain galloped at full tilt up to the group.

“Where’s the fire, Marshal?” Teaspoon kidded as Sam slid from the saddle before his horse had even come to a complete stop. Ike took hold of the bridle and patted the excited animal, quieting it down.

“Need your help, Teaspoon,” Sam said, pushing his hat back on his head as he looked bleakly at the circle of faces gazing attentively at him. “Emma’s been kidnapped.”

*****

“I just don’t see why we cain’t have some fun with ‘er is all,” Harve Prather whined to his brother as he cast a leering eye at their captive.

Emma wrenched again at the ropes that bound her hands, but they held securely. The Prathers knew their business well. She bounced in the saddle as Harve jerked on the lead rope tied to her horse. All she could do was hang onto the pommel horn. For now.

“I done tole you, ‘cause she’s the marshal’s sweetheart, that’s why,” the gang’s leader snapped to his younger brother riding alongside him.

“Don’t see what difference that makes, Walt,” Harve complained.

“Good thing I’m runnin’ things then, ain’t it? I can see when ta use somethin’ like this to our advantage. This little lady’s gonna be a big help to us.”

“I won’t help you,” Emma fairly spit at him.

“Now, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Walt countered. “It was a piece o’ real luck runnin’ inta you on the road like that.” He nodded at his brother. “You seen the way the marshal was makin’ eyes at her when we was scoutin’ Sweetwater last week. I reckon he’d do just about anythin’ to keep her from gettin’ hurt, supposin’ he was to catch up to us. Even let us go.”

“There won’t be anythin’ left of you to let go when Sam Cain gets finished with you.” Emma threatened.

Walt laughed. “Maybe,” he said. “And maybe we’ll just make ourselves a deal with Mr. U.S. Marshal Sam Cain.”

“Sam won’t deal with outlaws,” Emma said scornfully.

“We’ll see. Meanwhile we’ll just keep you nice and snug for as long as need be.”

Harve perked up a bit. “And then we kin have some fun?” he asked hopefully.

Walt smiled again, a smile that chilled Emma like frost on a gravestone. “We’ll see,” he said again.

*****

“It’s the Prather gang, far as I could tell from the descriptions I got from the stage driver.” Sam was relating the tale as concisely as he could so as not to waste precious time. “Don’t know if they knew about the bank shipment in advance or if they just got lucky. Either way, they got a rich haul and a good head start before the driver made it in to Sweetwater. I left Barnett in town and lit out after ‘em with my other deputy. I was comin’ out here to ask Buck’s help in trackin’ ‘em. We came across Emma’s buckboard, abandoned on the road about half a mile back. I saw her in town earlier. She left Sweetwater before we heard about the hold-up. She must have run right into them.” Sam paused. At his stricken look, Teaspoon spoke up to reassure him.

“If they left the stage driver alive, Sam, they’re not over quick to kill. Likely they’ll want to keep Emma alive for a hostage.”

“That’s what I figure,” Sam agreed almost eagerly. “We don’t know how much time she’s got, though, so I want to get after ‘em right away. I left Wade back at the buckboard to see nuthin’s disturbed till we get back to pick up their trail. I was fixin’ ta ask could you spare Buck, but now, well, I could use as many of you as can come along.”

“We’ll all go,” Jimmy spoke up without hesitation.

“Just a minute now,” Teaspoon began.

“Teaspoon, don’t tell us there’s mail to deliver,” Cody warned.

“This is Emma’s life at stake, Teaspoon,” Lou added.

Teaspoon looked at the six determined faces that suddenly bore a striking resemblance to a certain donkey named Sampson and knew they weren’t going to budge on this one. He sighed.

“Lou, run to the bunkhouse and wake up Monty. I know he was expectin’ to head back, but tell him he’s gonna have to take the next run, and he’ll have to tell the next rider in here to wait and do the same till we get back. The rest of you, go saddle up yer horses. Sam an’ me ain’t waitin’ on ya.”

The riders rushed off to get ready. Teaspoon looked at Sam and read the naked pain in his eyes.

“We’ll find her, Sam,” he assured his friend, resting his hand on the marshal’s shoulder.

“I know, Teaspoon,” Cain answered. He gave the express manager a troubled look. “But will it be in time?”

*****

They picked up Wade and the stage robbers’ trail at the abandoned buckboard and rode hard till midafternoon. Sam called a stop then to rest and water the horses.

Jimmy prowled around impatiently. He felt primed and ready to explode, like a gun half-cocked. Up. Down. Back. Forth. On one of his passes he nearly tripped over Buck, sitting so quietly Jimmy simply hadn’t been aware he was there. Hickok swore.

Buck tilted his head back and examined the young gunfighter. “Light somewhere, Hickok. Save that energy for when we catch up with the Prathers.”

“We ain’t never gonna catch up with ‘em at this rate!” Hickok fumed.

“Sam knows what he’s doing,” Buck replied mildly.

“We’re wasting time!” Hickok insisted, slamming his hand against a tree. “Every minute we stay here puts Emma that much farther out of reach, gives them that much more time…” he trailed off despairingly.

“Pushing the horses won’t do Emma any good,” was Buck’s only response.

Hickok whirled around from the tree to face him. “Well, you can all wait around here coddlin’ the horses,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m takin’ off now. You can follow me when you’re all rested up.” He began to stalk off.

Buck rose swiftly and went after him. Grabbing Jimmy’s arm, he said, “You can’t take on the whole Prather gang alone. That’s a good way to get Emma killed.”

Roughly Jimmy pushed Buck away. “What do you care anyway?” he yelled.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Buck demanded.

“You,” Jimmy said, walking towards him and pushing him again. Jimmy’s rage and helplessness were consuming him. He needed an outlet and suddenly here was a focus for some of that anger. “I’m talkin’ about you,” he addressed Buck. “Sittin’ there talkin’ about the horses. The horses! You’re not even worried, are you? You don’t look worried. You never look worried! Do you care about Emma? Do you have any feelings at all?” Jimmy grabbed Buck by the shirtfront and shoved him up against the tree. “Don’t you know what they’ll do to her if we don’t reach her in time?”

Buck made no move to resist or retaliate. He simply looked at Jimmy for a moment, not really seeing him, but something else, something within himself. “Oh yes,” he said very quietly. “I have good reason to know exactly what they’ll do to her.”

Hickok looked puzzled for a moment, staring at those opaque black eyes as if trying to see through shuttered windows. Then it hit him. Buck’s father had raped his mother. He’d grown up knowing her pain, probably feeling it more than Jimmy ever could. He released Buck’s shirt and stepped back.

“Buck, I…” He didn’t know what to say.

Buck just walked past him without a word.

*****

“Put your foot in it again, did ya, son?”

Jimmy looked up to see Teaspoon standing there watching him. Behind him, Ike ran up to Buck and walked mutely by his friend’s side. Jimmy looked back at Teaspoon.

“Thought we heard some yelling, so we came to check it out,” the older man explained.

“How much did you hear?” Hickok asked.

“Enough,” Teaspoon admitted. “Jimmy, Buck’s not the enemy here,” he continued gently.

“I know that, Teaspoon,” Jimmy said miserably. “I just…”

“You just didn’t have an enemy to hand so you figgered you’d make one up? Ain’t you learned nuthin’ from all our talks about control?”

“Control! If that means sittin’ around doin’ nuthin’ when we oughtta be actin’…”

“No, it means knowin’ when ta act and when ta sit, no matter how hard the sittin’ part is.”

“But Emma…”

“Ain’t a person here ain’t worried sick about Emma,” Teaspoon interrupted sharply. “You ain’t the only one feelin’ that concern.” Because they’d had to grow up fast, Teaspoon almost forgot at times his boys could still have the self-centered outlook of the young. He tried to broaden that outlook. “You might try respectin’ other people’s feelin’s. Just ‘cause Buck don’t let his fly all over creation the way you do don’t mean he ain’t got none. And what about Sam’s feelin’s? You think the thought of Emma with those men ain’t killin’ him inside? But he ain’t lettin’ hisself give in to that. He’s doin’ what’s right for Emma, not what’s right for him.”

Jimmy thought about that. “You’re sayin’ I oughtta be more like Buck and like Sam?”

“Hickok, I don’t want you to be like no one ‘ceptin’ yourself, Lord help us. Just don’t expect other folks to be like you neither. And don’t let that hot head o’ yours get in the way of Emma’s welfare. What’s gonna be more use to her—fresh mounts or lame ones? You’re an express rider—of all people, you know the difference that could make in gettin’ our help to her at all.”

Jimmy nodded. “You’re right, Teaspoon.”

“I gen’rally am, son. Now you go see if you can help Sam with anything. I said help, mind. He don’t need you worritin’ him right now.”

“Yessir. Buck…” he added tentatively.

“I’ll have a talk with Buck. Go along now.”

Hickok walked off to find Sam. Teaspoon shook his head. That youngster was going to take a lot more work. The nickname he despised so much suited him—he was like a wild thing. He’d learn, but the process would take time.

Buck now. Buck had a wild streak, too, Lord knew, but he wasn’t like Hickok. On the contrary. Hickok needed to learn control; Buck had that in full measure. Maybe too much. Teaspoon considered. He’d been spending so much time with Hickok lately, maybe he’d been neglecting his other boys. While he was teaching Hickok control, maybe he needed to teach Buck to have less control. He kept things inside too much. That could eat at a man.

It wasn’t that Buck didn’t look outside himself. He was very observant. It was why he was such a good tracker—Lordy Lord, that boy could follow a woodtick on a solid rock. He saw things others missed—like the way he saw something in Ike when no one else did. No, Buck didn’t miss seeing. He just kept his own counsel. Nothing wrong with that—to a point. Maybe Buck just needed to learn where that point was.

Teaspoon arrived at the spot where Buck and Ike were sitting side by side on a large rock. Ike got up when he saw Teaspoon and signed that Buck was trying to act like nothing was bothering him. Ike knew him too well to be fooled, however.

“It’s okay, Ike. I’ll talk to him. You go on back to the others.”

Ike looked down at Buck once, then back up at Teaspoon. Hunter shooed him on his way with an encouraging clap on the arm, then eased himself down a bit stiffly next to the young Kiowa.

“Y’know, Buck,” he mused, “you never were one to use up all your kindlin’ to make a fire, but sometimes a fire can die out for lack o’ tendin’.”

Buck turned his head and looked at Teaspoon blankly.

Hunter smiled. “Ya don’t waste words talkin folks’ ears off, but there’s times when talkin’ to someone can help,” he translated.

“Ain’t nuthin’ to talk about,”Buck said shortly and turned back to contemplating the countryside before him.

“’Pears to me you and Hickok were confabulatin’ some,” Teaspoon observed.

“Hickok was the one doin’ the talkin’,” Buck pointed out.

“Mm, so I heard,” Teaspoon said. “He’s worried about Emma, son. Like we all are.”

“Not accordin’ to Jimmy, we’re not,” came the rejoinder.

“Hickok has a way o’ speakin’ first an’ thinkin’ later,” Teaspoon noted drily. “He don’t mean it. You know that.”

“I know he’s upset, Teaspoon.” Buck paused and tossed a pebble into the brush. “Don’t worry, I don’t bear Jimmy any grudge for feeling afraid for Emma.”

“It ain’t Hickok’s feelin’s you need to talk about. It’s yours.” Teaspoon watched Buck’s lips press together, as if determined to do nothing of the kind. He elaborated, “Now Hickok, he lets everythin’ out, don’t hold nuthin’ back. Ain’t no one ever gonna be in any doubt how he’s feelin’. You—you got your feelin’s on such a tight rein, you hold everythin’ in, Buck. That ain’t real healthy neither. A body keeps everythin’ all bottled up like that, it keeps buildin’ an’ buildin’, pretty soon somethin’s gonna explode.”

“You’re sayin’ I should act like Hickok?” Buck’s voice held an incredulous note.

“Son, the world ain’t ready for but one Hickok—I ain’t even so sure about that one,” Teaspoon contradicted. “I’m just sayin’ you ain’t on your own no more. You got friends willin’ to listen, if you’re of a mind to talk. That’s what friends and family is for. Not just to share the good feelin’s, but to help ya through the bad. But ya got to let out some o’ those feelin’s churnin’ up inside, let go o’ that tight control you’ve got ‘em closed off with.”

“Control?” Buck repeated. “I have to stay in control, Teaspoon. I can’t let my feelings control me.” His hands formed into fists, as though he were physically attempting to hold onto his emotions.

“No, but you can’t deny them either.”

“I’m not. You don’t understand. I can’t lose control. I won’t. I won’t be like him.” Buck stopped abruptly.

“Him?” Teaspoon asked. There was no reply. “Like who, son?” Teaspoon prompted softly.

Buck bowed his head. His long hair fell forward, two smooth black wings masking his face. The words were uttered low and barely audible. “Like… my father.”

Teaspoon took in a quick breath and let it out slowly. This was straying into territory he hadn’t expected. It explained a lot, though.

“Buck, that’s foolishness. You’re not like your father.”

“How do you know? You didn’t know my father,” Buck challenged.

“I know what he did to your mother. I know you couldn’t ever do that.”

“How do you know? How do I know?” came Buck’s anguished whisper. “I have bad blood, Teaspoon.”

“Bad blood.” Teaspoon ruminated on that for a bit. “Buck, yer right—I didn’t know your father. I know he done a terrible thing.” Teaspoon paused, choosing his words carefully. “I never did hear the whole story about Lou’s father, ‘cept he done his share o’ bad things, too, but don’t try ‘n tell me ya think Lou’s a bad apple. An’ as fer the Kid—I don’t know a body more set on always doin’ what’s right, but I got the impression it weren’t his father he got that from.”

Buck was listening intently, but he made no comment. Teaspoon sensed he was beginning to get through the barriers Buck had erected to block out the hurt, so he pushed on.

“Buck, I never knew your mother or your brother either, but I’d be willin’ to bet you’re like ‘em in some ways—an’ unlike ‘em in others.”

Buck’s eyebrows drew together. Teaspoon could see he was thinking it over. He continued.

“The way I see it, we ain’t all spittin’ images of our parents, inside or outside. It just don’t work that way. There’s more than blood goes to make a person who he is. There’s upbringin’, friends, experiences… life.”

“If I could only be sure, Teaspoon…”

“Ain’t never no guarantees in life, son. One thing I am sure of, though.”

Buck turned his head and met Teaspoon’s eyes, questioning.

“I don’t have to know your father to know his son. I know your character. I know your first impulse is to help folks, not harm ‘em. I know you’re gen’rally the peacemaker in the disputes amongst the riders. I know how you stand by your best friend when others can’t see past his differences. I know you have at least five friends who stand by you when folks can’t see past yours. Ya don’t make friends like that, Buck, less’n you’re worth it. The Buck Cross I know is worth havin’ for a friend. I’d trust him with my life—and seein’ him let off a little steam now and then wouldn’t change that.”

Buck looked searchingly into Teaspoon’s eyes. His hands slowly relaxed as he appeared to find the truth he sought.

“I guess I have kept part of myself closed off,” he admitted. “Maybe I can try to change that a little.”

Teaspoon felt the strain begin to dissipate. “Just ease up on those tight reins some. Spend time with Hickok. Maybe you’ll rub off on each other a little—not too much, mind.” He raised a warning finger.

Buck smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Just then they heard a shout from Sam. Looking up, they saw him waving them over.

“Looks like Sam’s ready to head out,” Teaspoon said.

Buck sprang to his feet while Teaspoon pushed himself up.

“Teaspoon,” Buck said, then seemed at a loss. “Thank you,” he finished simply.

Teaspoon gripped Buck’s shoulder warmly, then they walked back to join the others.

*****

It was late afternoon and Emma was drooping in the saddle when the outlaws arrived at an abandoned ranchhouse. They seemed familiar with the place. Walt began issuing orders to his men about posting guards while Harve helped Emma down from her horse. She was so tired she slid into his waiting arms without protest. He let go immediately, however, at a look from Walt. The two brothers ushered her into the house.

The kitchen showed signs of recent use, so they’d apparently stopped here before. Harve began to bring out a few supplies.

Emma looked at her bound wrists, then around the kitchen. Smiling at Walt, she offered, “How would you boys like a home-cooked meal?”

Walt raised his eyebrows in surprise. Harve turned and asked, “What makes you so friendly all sudden-like?”

“My hands feel like they’re about to drop off, if you must know. I’ll cook you dinner in exchange for untyin’ me.” Emma kept the smile firmly in place.

Walt cocked his head and considered. “Glad ta see you’re finally gettin’ smart. Untie ‘er, Harve,” he decided. “Just don’t take your eyes off her.” He smiled. “We don’t want her gettin’ too smart for her own good.”

Emma didn’t flinch. She hadn’t expected it to be easy. At least moving about, with her hands free, she’d stand a better chance if an opportunity did present itself.

Harve removed the ropes. Emma rubbed to get her circulation going and stepped up to the table to look over the supplies.

Harve moved up close behind her. “I’m watchin’ yer every move,” he reminded.

Emma shivered inwardly. She knew Sam would come. She just hoped he would hurry.

*****

“There’s two of ‘em back of the toolshed over by the far corral,” Buck reported in a hushed voice as he returned from his reconnaissance.

“That accounts for all of ‘em then, if our information’s accurate,” declared Sam.

“It’ll be dark soon, Sam. Think we oughtta wait ‘n take ‘em by surprise?”

Sam rubbed his hand across his chin as he considered. “Naw, Teaspoon, they’re familiar with the ground; we ain’t. An’ who knows what’ll happen to Emma if bullets start flyin’ around in the dark? We’ll stick with our first plan—I’ll walk up an’ offer to talk to ‘em out in the open while the rest of you move in. I’ll need two of you to get into the house and get to Emma.”

“I’ll do it,” Jimmy volunteered.

“I’ll go with him,” Buck said.

Teaspoon nodded in approval.

Sam quickly mapped out the remainder of the placements. “All right, Ike, you and Lou take the two out back, Kid and Cody to either side. Wade will come with me—with any luck they’ll think there’s only the two of us. Teaspoon, I want you at my back.”

“You got it, Sam.”

“Move out, boys, and remember—Emma’s counting on us to get her out of this.”

“We will, Sam.”

The riders nodded agreement with Hickok’s assurance and spread out to take their appointed places.

Sam gave them time to get into position, then he and his deputy strode forward in full view, arms up and well away from their weapons. No one challenged them, but from the prickling in his back Sam could almost feel the guns pointed at him. When he got within hailing distance, he hollered, “Prather? Walter Prather? It’s Marshal Cain!”

“Whaddya want, Cain?” came the immediate response.

“Wanna talk, Prather. I know you’re holding Miss Shannon.”

“Come ahead then. Keep your hands where I kin see ‘em.”

Sam and Wade walked forward until they stood before the ranchhouse door.

“That’s far enough!” Prather called.

The lawmen halted.

“You wanna talk, Cain, start talkin’. But keep in mind that my brother’s holdin’ a gun on yer lady friend.”

“If you hurt her, Prather, I swear…”

“Ain’t nobody hurt nobody—yet. You wanna keep it that way, you’ll leave us be.”

“Can’t do that, Prather. You let her go, then maybe I’ll consider goin’ easy on you.”

“Looks like we got us a stand-off, Cain.”

“I don’t see it that way. I’d say the dickerin’s just gettin’ started.”

While Sam’s distraction continued, the riders moved in on their assigned targets. Jimmy and Buck crept around the house, looking for a way in unseen by the occupants. They found an open side window just as shots were fired somewhere on the grounds. The riders’ assault on the posted guards had begun.

Inside, the noise of the gunfire spurred the Prathers into action. “I’ll handle her, you go check out back,” Walt ordered Harve. He grabbed Emma and pulled her roughly to the front window as his brother vanished into the kitchen.

“What are you pullin’, Cain?” Walt shouted to the marshal.

“I told you I come to take you in, Prather. Your men are surrounded and outgunned. Give it up!”

“An’ I told you what would happen if you tried anything. Your lady friend dies!” Walt cocked his gun.

“It’s over, Prather,” Sam tried to reason with him. “You ain’t killed nobody yet. What’ll you gain by adding murder to your charges?”

“I ain’t got nuthin’ ta lose!” Prather shouted back recklessly.

“Nuthin’ but your worthless life.”

At the low words, Prather whirled, his left hand holding Emma as a shield in front of him, his right pressing his gun against her head, and looked straight down the barrel of a very deadly-looking ivory-handled Colt. Hickok stood rock-still by the side window, arm extended, his eyes never wavering from Prather’s.

“Jimmy,” Emma breathed.

“Drop it, Prather. Let ‘er go,” Hickok advised.

“You’re the one gonna drop it, boy, you don’t wanna see her dead,” Prather defied him.

“Only one gonna die here today is you unless you let her go. It’s your choice.” Hickok took a step forward.

“You pull that trigger an’ I’ll take her with me,” Prather threatened.

Hickok took another step. “Can’t do nothing if you’re dead.” Another step. Another.

Hickok was like an inexorable force bearing down on him. Walt couldn’t take his eyes off him. His bravado faltered and his gun wavered, pointing away from Emma and towards Hickok, almost of its own volition.

Emma acted instantly. Producing the fork she had appropriated while cooking, she jabbed it hard into Walt’s arm. With a startled yell, he let her go and she stumbled away, giving Hickok a clear shot at Prather. His bullet knocked Walt off his feet, the outlaw’s gun exploding harmlessly into the ceiling.

Hickok ran up and kicked the gun across the floor. Prather lay gasping, his hands clutching his bleeding side. Jimmy turned to Emma and held out his arms. She fell into them sobbing.

“Jimmy, look out!”

A shout from Buck, who had just entered through the window, was followed by two shots in quick succession. Buck’s bullet entered Harve’s arm just in time to deflect the shot he had aimed at Hickok and caused his gun to drop from his nerveless fingers.

“’Member, Hickok—there’s always one more waitin’,” Buck said as he walked up to Harve. He waved his gun towards the door, indicating Harve should precede him out. Harve began to comply, then twisted around, grabbing for Buck’s gun. His attack threw Buck off balance and the two went down.

“Buck!” Hickok shouted, watching them roll and struggle on the floor, but he couldn’t shoot at Harve without the risk of hitting Buck.

Harve scrabbled for the gun Buck hung onto just out of his reach. Buck fended Harve off with his right hand while Harve battered at his left, trying to loosen his hold. Finally, Buck managed to toss the gun off to the side rather than relinquish it into Harve’s grasp. Watching it skitter across the floor momentarily distracted Harve. It was long enough for Buck to pull his hand loose and reach down to his boot sheath. In a flash he flipped Harve onto his back and held his knife to Harve’s throat.

“Try it again, Prather!” he yelled in Harve’s face. “Give me an excuse to skin your filthy hide and leave it out for the buzzards to peck at!”

Harve looked from the knife to the half-blood’s furious face and didn’t say a word.

“On second thought, I don’t need an excuse,” Buck continued, his rage at what these men had put Emma through, had put them all through, filling his heart. “Maybe I’ll do it anyway, just for the pleasure of paying you back for what you did to Emma. You’ll be sorry you ever came near her!”

“Buck! I’m all right! They didn’t hurt me,” Emma cried, concerned to see him in such a state.

“Buck,” Hickok said quietly.

Buck pressed the knife against Harve’s throat for a long, tense moment. He watched the fear build in his opponent’s eyes. Satisfied, he withdrew the blade and pulled the outlaw to his feet.

“Let’s get these snakes out of here,” he said to Jimmy, “before I forget I’m a gentleman.”

“What’s going on in there?” The shouts from outside finally penetrated to the individuals in the house.

“Sam!” Emma exclaimed and ran to the door. She threw it open and rushed outside, straight into Sam’s arms. He held her tightly and murmured her name over and over.

Hickok hauled Walt upright and draped the wounded man’s arm over his shoulders to help him out.

Buck retrieved his gun and this time Harve walked docilely before him without any more attempts at escape.

Outside, Wade took custody of the Prathers as their men were herded in from all sides by the other riders.

“Buck,” Hickok said, “about this afternoon… One o’ these days I’ll learn not to shoot off my fool mouth—leastwise if Teaspoon has anythin’ to say about it.”

Buck smiled. “The way Teaspoon’s civilizin’ us, pretty soon we won’t be fightin’ at all.”

“Tell ya what,” Hickok confided. “When we get back to the way station, you help me pull up them blasted croquet wickets and get rid of ‘em, an’ I’ll take your next run.”

“It’s a deal.”

They shook on it.

THE END


End file.
